


Draw Me Close

by philippcarlyle



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Phil finally steps up to his parents, Phin is a good boyfriend, barlyle - Freeform, mainly fluffy dialogue you know me, protective Phin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philippcarlyle/pseuds/philippcarlyle
Summary: “It’s gonna be fine. Hopefully we’ll look good till the show begins.”“You always look good.”, Philip banters, but when P.T. looks at him, he is smiling sincerely. P.T. rolls his eyes and let’s himself fall backwards onto the bed. He doesn’t care that he could get blood on the sheets.[...]





	Draw Me Close

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!
> 
> This is based on a tumblr prompt: “You just really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
> 
> Once again unbeta'ed and I'm (still) not a native speaker, regardless:
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (title from "Warmth" by Bastille)

_Hold me in this wild, wild, world  
'Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be_

 

P.T. Barnum is not a violent man. Has never been the type to participate in a physical fight.

Then why does he sport a black eye, cut lip and split knuckles as he arrives at the circus? Additionally, Philip doesn’t look much better himself. Philip and P.T. decided not to go into detail when they told the troupe the story this morning.

But Philip knows exactly what happened last night. It still gives him chills.

 

* * *

 

yesterday 

 

“We have to go back tomorrow, okay? I couldn’t finish it.”

“Obviously. What was that – 400 pages?”

“Yeah, something like that. But why do they have to close so early?”

P.T. shook his head smiling. They’ve been to one of the first public libraries to spend their leisure time today. Philip has been to various expensive private, exclusive libraries before of course - he was aristocracy. Regardless, it was a nice idea and so different for the younger man to have company that didn’t bother him with political talk or business problems. Going to a library with P.T. had promised to be fun. They had picked out the strangest and most intriguing books, found a quiet place and read. Whenever one of them read something worth sharing, they’d done so. They only left when they were told that the library closed for that day and to 'maybe come back tomorrow'.

Much to Philip’s annoyance they had to pass the Bowery Theatre. Philip liked the theatre - as a playwright just as much as a visitor, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth, passing it now. He felt insecurity creep up his spine when they got closer and closer to it. Some play or concert must have ended previously; otherwise there wouldn’t be so many people. Philip suddenly grew very conscious of his current position:   
P.T. has slung an arm around his shoulders, they were awfully intimate looking while still talking about the books and funny anecdotes. P.T. was all smiles and bright eyes, which Philip adored, but right then he was painfully aware of all the looks they got. Confused. Disgusted.

“Philip? Is that you?”

Philip closed his eyes, sure that P.T. could feel the tenseness which took over his body. He did. Philip didn’t want to turn around, didn’t need the discussion with his family. It was also likely that his parents weren’t alone - they always wanted to show off and therefore be accompanied by ‘friends’ and acquaintances.

“Let’s just go,” he requested quietly and felt rather than saw P.T. nod. Though they pretended to have overheard the voice, they weren’t left alone.

“Philip Carlyle, you come here _right now_! You won’t disrespect us like this.”

Philip stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn around at the spiteful words. He was not sure if he would be able to face them. P.T.,apparently, had no such troubles and twirled around, his coat brushed Philip with the movement. _Too close._

“Don’t you see that he doesn’t want to talk to you? So, excuse us.” P.T. told them with a fake smile. Their faces said enough for the showman to know they weren’t done yet. Especially not, if some lower-class fraudster addressed them like that.

“I will not. Philip, have you gone entirely mad? _This is not your place_. First this – this servant maid, and now - this man - what has gotten into you?” Philips father carried on and took several accusing steps towards them. Philip heard it, but continuingly faced the other way. He was above this, he didn’t have to talk to this man. He was also not surprised to _not_ hear his mother once. She wasn’t as present as his father, but never stopped him either.

“Sir, you should leave now. Come on, Philip,” P.T. tried again to save them and get out of the scene they slowly caused. Well, the scene Philip’s father instigated. P.T. offered another strained smile and put a hand on Philip’s shoulder. The younger man softly nodded at that. They should just leave.

“Don’t you dare touch my son!” The man bellowed after them, causing the younger man to wince.   
Philip turned around so fast, P.T. couldn’t stop him. Stormy eyes met cold dark ones and Philip pointed at his father.

“You don’t make decisions for me. I don’t want to talk to you _or_ mother and I don’t care what you think of - or want from me. We have _nothing_ to do with each other.”

Philip’s father however seemed to be of a different opinion. P.T. saw the angered man’s hand twitch and reacted instantly. He stepped in front of Philip, shoved the fuming man behind him and caught his father’s wrist mid-air.

“Don’t _you_ dare touch him, or I’ll break every bone you got in your body.” He growled, before releasing the man’s arm. Without another word he walked away and brushed Philip’s arm with his fingertips as an inclination to follow him. The younger man fell silently in step with him, relieved, when they slowly got out of earshot. Mr Carlyle apparently had some nice phrases for both of them to accompany their exit.

They took some ways that looked more peaceful, less crowded.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry you had to, you know, witness that.”

“Philip, you don’t need to apologize for their faults.” P.T. said. Philip nodded and stroke his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, but still. Didn’t think you’d threaten him.” He smirked then. A low chuckle escaped him, when he noticed the older man shrug innocently.

“Err…yeah, well.”

They walked in silence. Philip suggested they took a longer way back home, because – he didn’t know why. But P.T. agreed and they wandered around the town a bit, to cool down and maybe shake off the events from before. It’s half an hour later, that P.T. voiced something worrying. Once more aware of his surroundings, Philip agreed, they could be under observation.

“You think, your dad might…?”

“Well I wouldn’t have thought he found some kind of mercenaries so fast, at least,” Philip murmured and caught a shadow in the corner of his eye. Shit.

“You think we can run?”

“Probably not.” Philip answered. After that he could practically feel P.T. bracing himself for a fight. That might not have been the worst idea. It was pretty clear then, that they would have to stand up against their hunters.

At the end of the street, P.T. stopped. Philip shot him a look and they turned around.

 

* * *

 

today

 

“I still can’t believe you punched someone.”

“Was there a choice?” P.T. grumbles.

“No, that’s not what I meant. We, I don’t know, could’ve guarded ourselves. There's always a choice.”

“True. But not when they behave like that.”

“Drubbing dimwits?”

“Nice alliteration, I appreciate it. But no: _insulting_.”

Philip has to grin at that. He was ready to fight back at that alley, hours ago. But he hadn’t expected P.T. to attack one of them first, after they spit something nasty at Philip.

“You just really couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Philip asks and gently taps a cloth over P.T.’s damaged hands. The older man just scoffs and flashes him a brilliant smile.

“Not with you.”

“That’s sweet. But you don’t have to beat up idiots for me.”

“Oh, I normally wouldn’t, don’t worry. But with that situation? We would have gotten hurt anyways, and I can’t just let that happen without resistance.”

“It might happen again.”

P.T. sighs. He takes the cloth from Philip and throws it in a bucket of water close to the bed, which immediately becomes red. They already patched up Philip’s bleeding nose and inspected their bruises. Overall they have gotten off fairly intact.

“This might cause some confusion today, don’t you think?” Philip asks after a while and grins. P.T. wonders what the younger man is talking about, until it dawns on him. He softly laughs. They left the circus together yesterday and would show up all beaten and bruised? Yeah, an explanation would be good.

“It’s gonna be fine. Hopefully we’ll look good till the show begins.”

“You always look good.”, Philip banters, but when P.T. looks at him, he is smiling sincerely. P.T. rolls his eyes and let’s himself fall backwards onto the bed. He doesn’t care that he could get blood on the sheets. He is too tired to spare it a second thought.

“And you say I am the sweet talker,” he murmurs amused, stifling a yawn. Exhaustion finally rushes over his body and mind. They had a long night.

“Because you are. I just state facts,” Philip grins and lies down as well. They face each other and P.T. matches his grin.

“Maybe you should manage the next show then.” He suggests and stretches lazily.

“Ah, no, no. I like my place, thank you very much.” Philip argues, but there isn't much of a fight in his voice. P.T. rolls his eyes and flops onto his back. He pulls the younger man closer to him. Philip snuggles up to him and basically purrs, when P.T. caresses him and draws idle patterns on his skin.

“Maybe we can talk about the shows again. Not today.” Philip gives in with a content sigh. P.T. grins and nods.

“Sure. Let’s just get some sleep.”

“Phin?”

“Hm?”

“L’ve ya…”

“Excuse me?” P.T. smiles and huffs a laugh, when Philip pokes his shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you.” P.T. answers and places a kiss into Philips soft hair, before both of them drift off to catch some much needed hours of sleep, cuddled together.

 

_And in your heat I feel how cold it can get_  
So draw me close  
Draw me close


End file.
